


Witchcraft

by kitkatkaylie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Post-Canon, Theon Greyjoy Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Tormund Giantsbane has very few fears. Sansa Stark is one of them.Naturally Jon finds this hilarious.
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 198





	Witchcraft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [procellous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/procellous/gifts).



> Inspired by a post by @theon-greystark on tumblr

Jon grinned and let his head loll against Tormund’s shoulder as they passed the skin of wine between them. He had a nice buzz going and the good mood of the Free Folk was infectious now he no longer had the weight of the crown over him. He wasn’t even sure what they were celebrating, only that they were.

He was comfortable enough that the flames and horror of Kings Landing did not haunt the edges of his mind as they so often did these days.

A few children ran up to him giggling, before running away just as fast, their eyes nervous at the thought of approaching him properly.

“Don’t worry little ones.” Tormund laughed, dislodging Jon’s head from his shoulder, “Jon here is harmless. Its his siblings you should be frightened of.”

Jon laughed, “I think you are confusing me with Sansa, Tormund. She’s the harmless one.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s bloody terrifying!”

Jon stared at Tormund with concern, how could anyone think his sweet sister was terrifying? Arya, yes that he could understand. But Sansa? Sansa was the least terrifying person he had ever met.

“You really don’t see it Jon Snow? Your sister is the strongest person in that castle of hers and I’m pretty sure she’s a witch.” Tormund’s voice was deathly serious, so serious in fact it took a moment for his ludicrous words to register.

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

Tormund’s face paled and his voice lowered as though he was scared of being overheard.

“She can persuade anyone to do anything with just a bat of her eyelashes.” He said fearfully, “And I heard some of the Southerners talk, they said she killed the king and escaped by turning into a winged wolf and flying away.”

Jon waited for Tormund to laugh, to say his words were a joke, that his belief in them was a joke.

“Sansa’s never killed anyone. And she can’t turn into a wolf either, she just knows what people want.”

Tormund looked at him flatly, “She fed her husband to his own dogs.”

Well, that was true. Bolton had deserved it though.

“His dogs were starving; they would have eaten anything in that cage with them.” Jon defended.

“And she threw him in there and watched it happen. Face facts, little crow, your sister is the scariest one of all of you.”

It was a truly horrible thing that Jon could almost start to see Tormund’s point of view, could almost start to believe that Sansa of all people was scary. But then he remembered the way she would smile so softly at Theon, and the gentle way she would interact with children.

“I still think you’re mad for thinking Sansa is the scary one. She’s the nice one, ‘specially around Theon.” Jon mumbled, allowing his head to fall back against Tormund’s shoulders.

“Yeah, well, that lad is just as scary as she is. He survived the Night King’s fucking spear to the gut.” Tormund responded.

Jon could almost see Tormund’s point there, but he doubted he would ever feel any fear of Theon, not when he could still recall the absolute confusion on Theon’s face when he saw snow for the first time.

The sound of hoofbeats and the clank of metal plate drew their attention, the noises were unusual among the Free Folk where few rode, and even fewer wore plate armour.

“Lord Snow.” A young man, with the Stark sigil across his chest bowed before Jon, “I bring a message from Her Grace, Queen Sansa.”

The lad held out a scroll in hands that trembled from the cold and Jon took it quickly so that the lad would be able to tuck his hands back beneath his cloak.

He broke open the wax seal and quickly scanned the contents, a grin breaking out across his face as he did so.

“My sister is pregnant.” Jon read from the letter, “She and her husband invite us to Winterfell to celebrate.”

“Wait” Tormund looked confused, “I thought her husband was without a cock.”

Jon really couldn’t resist his next words, “Maybe she grew it back with her magic powers? Or maybe the babe is also magic?”

Tormund looked at him with horror, “She can do that?”

Laughter bubbled out of his throat and he looked up at Tormund with a gaze his siblings would refer to as ‘smitten’.

“No, she probably just asked someone for help and Theon is going to claim the babe as his own. No magic involved there.”

Tormund huffed, but his eyes were soft as he met Jon’s own gaze, “Well I’m still getting a talisman before we go. Just in case she tries to work her magic on me.”

“You’re already bewitched.” Jon said with a cheeky grin, “By me.”

The envoy sent by Sansa looked scandalised by the affection between them, and Jon figured it would be best to send him off before he said something that the Free Folk would take offense to.

“Thank you.” Jon smiled at him, “Please inform my sister and her husband that myself and Tormund will be attending the feast for the new prince or princess.”

The envoy hastily bowed, “Of course, my lord.”

“Excellent, you are welcome to camp with us for the night if you should wish.” Tormund said, “I’m sure someone would be happy to show you where to pitch your tent.”

The envoy disappeared into the crowd with great speed and Jon looked up at Tormund with a grin.

“So, did you want to spend the rest of the evening discussing how terrifying my sister is, or did you want to celebrate properly?”

Tormund looked at him with a sly grin, “I think how scary your sister is is a perfectly valid conversation. Seeing as she is.”

Jon rolled his eyes, “Tormund, she plays the harp. How can someone who plays the harp be terrifying?”

“Its one of the mysteries of the world, Little Crow, and probably another of her witchy powers.”

Jon gently slapped Tormund for those words and scowled at him playfully, “You know you can’t call her a witch when you are in Winterfell.”

Tormund shrugged and wiggled his eyebrows, “There are many things we cannot do in the South, Little Crow, mayhaps we should get them out of our system now?”

Jon did not have a chance to reply before he was swept into a kiss that tasted faintly of the foul alcohol that Tormund liked to drink. And for a moment he thought about protesting and continuing their conversation, but then he sank into the kiss a little more and all thoughts left his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you want to talk to me about this fic or in general find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


End file.
